On Her Body
by frilencer
Summary: Every part of her body tells him something about her life, about her past, about her hidden feelings and wounds.


**I don't own NCIS. **

**If you write a review and make me know your opinion about this oneshot, you will make me happy.  
><strong>

...

On her body, he finds the bruises and the wounds that tell the story of her life, indelible marks left on her skin by the past, scratches that stopped bleeding a long time ago, but that still hurt if you pressed on them. When he lets his hand run down her body, he feels those signs underneath and he follows with his fingertips the path drawn by the scars, sensing the way they burn under his skin, as though they were longing to spew out the stories they have been hiding for too long.

On her knee, he finds a bruise that talks about summers in Israel and long and wearing runs through the streets of the city. It tells about a child that tripped over the pavement and fell to the ground, leaving a drop of blood on the asphalt and a flow of tears on her cheeks. It tells about a day that will be forever marked on her skin, as a remembrance of the fact that that little happy child once existed.

Oh her back, he finds the permanent marks dug into her skin by the men that held her captive for months in Somalia. He finds the memories of that summer in which that little child had changed into a woman who was ready to die, a woman who had hidden the desire of living in a secluded nook of her heart, a nook that had kept throbbing for some days before lapsing into the immobility of death.

On her belly, he finds a wound that it's still waiting to heal. It carries the weight of that day when she was shot, and it still grieves for the blood that was poured from the injury. It tells him about the constant fear she is always struggling with, the never-ending concern she feels when she thinks that she might not make it through the day. It tells him about her doubts, her pulsing need to run away and leave that dangerous life behind her. But it also tells him about her intense desire of staying, of not losing something she has been working on for years – maybe since the day she was born, when her eyes saw the surrounding world for the first time and her whole body started to get ready to find a place for her to stay.

On her cheeks, he finds the shadows of the tears that borrowed their way into her skin, bearing the bitter and salted flavor until they moistened her lips and she could feel what her pain tasted like. He finds the echo of the punches and slaps she has sustained, the fading color that paints her face when she blushes.

On her hands, he finds the absorbed blood that she has shed over the years, the signs of the many times she has come to blows, the hint of the trigger on the fingertip of her index. Her hands carry the memories of the stuffed toys they cuddled, of the guns they held, of the mouths they hushed, of the lives they took away. They haul the memento of her actions, and it doesn't matter how hard she rubs them, that blood won't vanish.

Under her feet, he finds the timid fear she senses when she touches the ground and feels the grass and the earth between her toes. He finds her eternal amazement at the sight of the new world she has discovered many years before, a world that she is slowly changing into her home. Her feet bring along the echoing sound of her steps on the asphalt, the beautiful sensation of the sea flowing between her toes, the memory of the first time she touched the American soil, the soil of a country that couldn't be more foreign and hostile at that time. They drag the exhaustion stored up during the long and wearing trips she has made over the years, and the relief of knowing that she is not going to move from where she is now because she has found her place.

In her eyes, he finds the constant pursuit of happiness, safety, comfort. He finds a beaming light when she smiles, storms and clouds when she gets angry, rain and ice when she cries, rainbows and sunshine when she laughs. He finds the reflection of the atrocities she has witnessed, the beating quest for truth that twinkles in her eyes when she stares at people, the doubts that refuse to fade. In her irises, he finds a darkness she hides behind, a darkness he is trying to penetrate to reveal the concealed secrets that lie low.

In her, he finds her need of being loved, of having people who take care of her by her side, people who can heal the wounds on her body and in her heart, people who she can trust and hang on to when she feels she's falling apart. He tries to be that one, to be that person and he makes every part of his body speak for him, tell her what she needs to hear, what he needs her to know.

Now in his body, she finds a warm place to cuddle up against. In his arms, she finds the hug she needs to feel safe. On his hands, she finds the promise of a caress. On his lips, the pledge of a kiss. In his eyes, she finds the solace, the healing, the shining love that heats her body and make her sense the summer in her heart. She finds the worry in his eyes when she is crying, the happiness when she is smiling, she finds the uninterrupted feeling that he feels her pain and he tries to cure it, that he sees her joy and he tries to keep it alive.

In him, she finds what she is looking for, the awareness that he can turn her scars into phantoms of the past and sweep them away with his presence. In him, she finds the strength and also the permission of feeling weak sometimes. In him, she finds a new life, a new promise, a new sun.

She lets him hold her in a tight embrace and she breathes in the scent of their naked bodies, while he places a kiss on her forehead, freeing her mind from all the itching thoughts, making her feel clean and unwounded. He closes his eyes and rests his head on hers and they slowly sink into sleep, closer than ever.

In each other, they find the peace, the happiness, and a new home.


End file.
